Once Upon a Time in Camelot
by Lostinlaceandbrocade
Summary: Regina Mills has never met a challenge she hasn't surpassed in this world nor in the other. Or has she? The Curse is alive with unintended consequences.  A note from the Author: It's unbeta'd so there are some grammatical mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

Once Upon a Time in Camelot

**Disclaimer**: I own none of the previously copywriter materials or characters. Ownership belongs to Disney, BBC, ABC Productions.

**Author's Note**: I am broke. I work part time and go to school part time. If I see my story on the net under someone else name so halp me I will find you and shame you. Now that that's out of the way I hope you enjoy this because I had balls to the walls fun writing it.

**Rating**: PG-M

Prologue

An old withered and spotted hand gripped the cane it held tighter. Each step was harder than the last. The wet weather had followed the visitor, even in this sacred spot. The old man muttered something that could barely be heard above the rumbling of the storm. Oddly enough the lightning had popped even louder and more rain fell. The face of the stranger glared up out of his hood and yelled at the sky while shaking his fist.

"…getting too old for this…," he declared in the stone clearing after he had stopped walking. The alter had changed little since the first time he had come here. Instead of being able to use the grounds in the way they were meant to be used, he had been reduced to shedding blood in order to survive. Never again, he had thought as a young man, but as it had happened that was the first of many times. Now he was the sole survivor of those battles and of that time.

He stood up as straight as he could and tapped his staff against the grey stone floor. The temple shuddered a bit in response. The old man twisted his staff so that it was horizontal in his arms and he murmured in a language that hadn't been heard aloud in decades. In an odd but fitting way he was very proud about that. When he was finished blackness spread open before him. The Veil, was what it used be called now it went by another name. He was no longer a part of such discussions. His time of influence was over.

He listened carefully for the sounds that the Veil was releasing. Some of them were voices, very familiar voices. His eyes closed and he held back tears. Those voices belonged to friends and loves who had been long past. His yearning to join them would be fulfilled very quickly, he thought. All he had to do was to keep walking forward into the Veil. Yet he hesitated. There were other sounds. Screaming, screeching, and sounds he could not recognize. He opened his eyes knowing full well that age had dimmed them to be near useless but he peered into the Veil anyway.

He saw…autumn. So many trees that had turned the colors of the season. The winds had them dancing the oldest song nature knew. There were people walking and talking, dressed in ways he had never seen even in all his travels. Huge machines were everywhere. His eyes widened at the sight. He had access to magic beyond the average scope of comprehension yet here was fascinated by the reliance of these metal machines large and small. If only an old friend of his could see this, she would have loved it with a childlike glee.

Within his sight line he saw a rather troubled middle aged man reliant on a cane. He limped along to stand in the back of a crowd that gathered to hear a woman speak. From his view in the crowd he could not see her face, but the man who he could see was not impressed at all. The animosity emanating from him was tangible. The man with a can moved away from the crowd and the old man watching could finally see the woman's face. Her eyes followed the man with a cane and glared at him for just a fraction of time. Short enough to see the change in her face but not long enough for the crowd to notice. The man watching through the Veil noticed on other woman in the crowd looking at the speaker with no enthusiasm and a straight face. Her blond locks waved in the wind partially hiding her shorter friend standing next to her trying in vain to not get hit in the face with her friend's hair. Her demeanor seemed sweet and gentle as her body language was also non-threatening. The hat on her head hid most of her very short hair but not a bright big smile on her face. The old man watching smiled at her.

He wondered why he was seeing all of this. The Veil was supposed to be oblivion, a calming nothingness if one was brave enough to face it as a form of death. He was ready for death and this was the least terrifying way to go, he thought. He was so tired of being brave for other people.

But this scene he was watching was a nothingness. This was something; it was a strange new world. Would it welcome him? Would he be a sorcerer? An old crippled near blind man? Could his life start over?

Would he be alone again?

More importantly, why was the Veil giving him these visions? Most visions were clear and of a very near future. This was something else entirely. This could be a different world and a different time. If that was true, then something is very wrong.

His hesitation granted him more insight on the event taking place. The cheered the stern woman and she smiled widely waving at them. The smile was stiff and shallow. It was completely the opposite of the short woman with even shorter hair. Completely opposite, in fact. The old man wondered about that. Did they know each other?

Any idea of not going through the Veil vanished when a young woman stepped up and walked across the platform. As the crowd dispersed in every direction, the old man got a good look at both of the women and the younger one was instantly recognizable. The long dark as midnight hair was up in a bun but the angular neck the sharp features and the smile that lead to more were all too familiar.

"No…," he whispered. "That's not possible. I killed and burned you myself. You are dead." He knew no one could hear him but it was obvious he was trying to convince himself. He quickly snapped out of it and was glad he did because at that moment the female speaker looked beyond the younger woman's shoulder and directly into his eyes.

She knew he was there.

She knew his identities.

She could see through the Veil.

The old man glared right back at her. He didn't know she was, but he never ever backed down from a challenge.

That was why he proudly stepped through the Veil.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Upon a Time in Camelot

Chapter 1

**Characters**: Merlin, Regina, Ruby, Arthur, Henry, and many more

**Rating**: PG

**Word** **Count**: 6275

**Summary**: None cause I'm mean.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea? It's a huge investment. Granted it's a high reward, but the risk may be too high."<p>

"Son, what have I told you about investments, hmm?"

"Never investment with your own money."

"Very funny. What else?"

"Better relationships, better investments, better profits."

"Exactly."

"So this is why we're going Stateside, to buy majority shares in a company that you hate?"

"I've set my personal feelings aside and looked at the history of the franchise and the potential. The markets have been up consistently since last spring. The retail and manufacturing sectors have had steady improvements. Steadfastness is the key to success. You need to remember that."

Arthur looked out of the window of their private jet. The north eastern seaboard of the United States lit up their night ride. It wouldn't be long before they touched down in LaGuardia. Arthur remembered when a flight attendant informed them that they would not be landing at JFK and would reroute to LaGuardia instead. His father flew into a rage. It was always difficult to tell when his father was talking to himself or the people around him. His father's ability to toot his own horn was just incredible to watch sometimes.

"You look troubled, boy," a man asked with a Scottish lilt.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you, sir."

"Please," the man said as he settled in the seat across from Arthur. His cane was carefully moved in between the dual luxury seats. "You can call me Mr. Gold. Sir is a bit much."

"I apologize, Mr. Gold. I was distracted. There's something I missed earlier. Why are you selling your shares of the company to my father, and why couldn't we do it when we were all in London?"

"I believe your assistant has the contract. The shares can only be bought or sold in New York hence our trip to Albany. Besides I have business that needs tending to that's not too far away. It's something that I enjoy doing very much. Personally, I think you'd enjoy it too. You seem to be more of a people person than your father. Besides, small town America has it's," he paused, "surprising delights at times."

"I don't know about that. What are you doing?"

"It's mostly small business loans and real estate. You've been trying to get experience out on your own and this would be perfect for you. What does your schedule look like?"

"I don't know. Let me ask my assistant." Arthur looked past his father's guest and through the aisle to the young man asleep stretched out in a position one would think should be impossible to sleep in. His had his wide open mouth and drool was dripping down from it on to his shoulder. Arthur glared at him and pressed his lips together.

"Merlin," Arthur called and was answered back by loud snoring. He sighed and was about to shout at him when his mother's soft hand squeezed his shoulder.

"My love," she chided gently, "He is tired. Who do you think has been cleaning up your mess in the press while keeping your business affairs in order? It's been nonstop for him. I'm sure this can wait until we land," Ygraine added. She continued down the aisle to join her husband in his private quarters.

As soon as she closed the pocket door Arthur screamed, "MERLIN!"

The skinny assistant awoke with a start. The laptop he had open on his chest nearly slid off on to the floor but he did catch it in time. His short hair stood up in odd directions giving a pure example of someone suffering from bed head. The giant earphones he had on were askew. Arthur looked at him blankly and shook his head.

"I need to add something to my schedule so I need you to talk to Gold about it. Did you make that press release yet? Those stupid entertainment shows have me looking like a heartless selfish douche while the business pundits like to talk about me being completely full of shit. No one will ever take me seriously if they think I'm a whiny brat." Arthur paused for just a minute to realize that most of what he said was viciously untrue but spinning it to his own favor wasn't something he was good at either. In is "woe is me" rant he had neglected someone who had already been dragged through the mud by his friends, family, and personal ass kissers even after the truth was revealed. "Never mind. Just say that I will not tolerate lies or rumors about what happened. The case has been settled and those responsible have either been jailed or sued. Make sure that she," he stopped again. The view from the window did not distract him from his thoughts or his past actions. "Make sure they understand that I will press slander or libel charges if they repeat more untrue allegations about her. She's been through enough and it's my fault as it is." He looked down at the two rings on his hand. The ring that encircled his pinky was still the same steel ring that his mother and his former fiance had enjoyed. They both had the same love of the metal and its ability to be strong simple and very beautiful. The other ring on his index finger was just the opposite. It was white gold inlaid with a bad of alternating black and chocolate diamonds. The ring was brand new in a collection that his new fiance had just released. In fact she and her father were so very proud to see him accept and wear the ring before it had been available to purchase. Having Mithian Carwright on his arm was a public blessing. Privately she brought peace to his family. He would always be grateful for that, but that was as far as his feelings for her had gone. Try as hard as he did, he could not feel for her as he did his former lover. His mother seemed to know that he was faking happiness. The more he thought about it the more he believed that Mithian thought the same too.

"Am I really that obvious," Arthur said aloud to himself.

Merlin blinked at him trying to make sense of all the topics his boss had just tossed at him. His sleep deprived eyes still wanted to be shut and he was still slightly un-sober from the party and the clubs Gwaine had dragged him to the night before. From the sounds of everything he was trying to comprehend Arthur was feeling sorry for himself again, but wanted what again?

Merlin blinked and did his best to repeat back what he heard, "schedule change for Mr. Gold, immediate press release, and did you want me to go to the lawyers about a cease and desist for the TMZs?"

"Sure, Merlin," Arthur said suddenly distant. Merlin was getting used to the sudden mood changes. Well, more sudden and far more depressing than before. He moved to get his flash drive out of his lap top bag when Arthur moved to get out of his seat to the business compartment where his family was discussing something in hushed tones.

Merlin found one of the legal templates and began typing when Mr. Gold nodded at him when he looked up. He made a move to clumsily pick up all of his things to move next to the older man. "Did I miss something? What's going on with the new schedule?"

Mr. Gold removed a pair of glasses he had been reading with and closed the extremely old and weathered book. Merlin didn't want to be too nosey, but it looked as if the book had been about chemistry and alchemy in the early Renaissance. Merlin recognized the graphical images because Arthur took a similar course at Oxford, and that meant that Merlin did all the research and test taking. "Interesting read," he asked causally.

"Yes," Mr. Gold said calmly as he closed the book to put it away. He looked long and hard at the young man before he said, "I think you'd like it. It's fascinating actually. To learn how people thought years ago and what they were so desperate to learn. Comparing it to what we now know, that can be incredibly humbling. Finding out that we, as a people, still want the same things from life but have gone about it in such destructive ways, well I think it's obvious that we still have a ways to go. Don't you," he asked when he handed Merlin the book. "Go on, take it. Think of it as a well-deserved treat."

"I…I can't take this. It's a first edition."

"And it's worth a small fortune. I consider myself an excellent procurer of such rare finds. Don't worry I'm sure I can find something like that again."

"Thanks," Merlin said as more of a question than anything else. He put it in the leather laptop bag that held all things important while feeling around for his date book. Arthur and his friends liked to laugh at him for carrying around a hard copy datebook while having a ridiculously complex calendar program on his laptop and phone. Arthur stopped laughing at him when the Pendragon servers and the backups catastrophically failed during an upgrade. "Sorry about this. I usually put notes in here first, just in case. When do you think we can have this meeting?"

"As soon as possible. In fact I wouldn't even bothering unpacking if I were you." The Scotsman reached down into the inflight sleeve to bring out the notepad that had the Pendragon letterhead taking up an absurd amount of space on the paper. He wrote down an address in Maine. "Don't worry, the drive won't be so bad but you might want to bring those packed bags with you," he smiled almost seductively and added, "just in case."

Arthur sat uncomfortably in a conversation that talked around him. His mother and father were delighted by their other guests. Of course everyone would glance back to make sure he was still there and he gift them with a plastic smile. All was well. He shifted in his seat a bit when the stewardess handed him champagne and a small plate of fruits mixed with hard cheeses. He down the expensive imported champagne quickly.

"Arthur? The doctor asked you a question," his mother said sternly.

"Sorry Mum. What was your question Doctor?"

"Please Arthur, call me by my name," the woman said slowly as she placed her tea cup down on its saucer. "You remember it, don't you? I know it's been a long time." Her voice and face sounded young almost his age but her extensive career and the sheer length of time she had been friends with his mother told him she had to be at least twice his age. She just didn't look it. That was only one of her odd qualities. "It's Nimueh."

"But everyone always calls you by your last name, Ryan," Arthur concluded. It had been years since he had seen her. Why was she here again?

"I was just asking about your general health. I'll never forget your mother's pregnancy. It was," she said but she stopped her thought trying to find the right words.

His father chimed in, "It was life changing for everyone."

Arthur noticed how quiet everyone had become and how his mother was more than uncomfortable. She seemed almost ashamed. He really hated seeing her like this even more than he hated being the last to know things. Mithian came over to put a gentle hand on his knee. Her equally ostentatious ring made the gesture seem disingenuous even though there was real empathy behind it. Arthur made a quick verbal pivot to break the tension. "I'm well enough. There haven't been any serious problems since I was child. Hell I almost went pro five years ago."

Mithian smiled at both Arthur and Doctor Ryan. "He still plays pretty often. His college friends that play professionally or in traveling leagues almost never practice in the off season without him."

Arthur looked at both of his parents. His mother was beaming whereas his father was glaring at him. Even though the idea of him as a pro footballer had long since been dead, his father's near disowning of him for that, amongst other things, had not been forgotten nor forgiven.

The doctor smiled again. This time there was real mirth behind it. "I'm glad to hear it. Everything that happened has inspired me to adjust my practice. Specializing in difficult pregnancies and pediatrics has been an absolute joy."

"I'm sure it has been, Doctor," Mr. Gold said from the threshold. Everyone turned to look because no one heard him open the door or even knew how long he had been standing there. The ornate cane he had made no noise as he used to balance himself in a seat next to Maxwell Cartwright, Mithian's father. The two men exchanged simple pleasantries, but Doctor. Ryan stared at the newcomer with content.

"Mr. Gold," she said simply.

"Doctor." He smiled when he returned the greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"I was enjoying the company of friends."

"Did I misstate that? What I meant was what business do you have here?"

"I'm moving my practice to Boston. I hate to ask the same of you."

"I planned on showing Arthur the ropes of real estate in the lovely state of Maine."

"That sounds wonderful," Ygraine cried. "Arthur you are going to love it!"

"I agree Arthur." Doctor. Ryan said more to her tea than to the man in question. "You are going to love your permanent real estate there."

Arthur heard that loud and clear. "What, no no no. We talked about the commercial potential no one said anything about living there."

"Oh did you," the doctor asked.

This time Mr. Gold looked at tad bit angry. "I believe my business is just that. Mine. You should stick to what you know." He grabbed a flute that was full from the table full of alcohol and sipped at it, "and who you know for that matter."

The rest of the conversations went far more smoothly. Arthur excused himself to find out more about Mr. Gold from Merlin.

Even his assistant, who generally knew something about everything, came up empty about all things Mr. Gold.

Merlin didn't tell him about the book. When Arthur asked about their guest he quickly flipped the patch work flap of his bag shut and snapped it. He didn't feel too comfortable with the extremely rare gift. There was a motive behind the book and he wanted to know what it was.

* * *

><p>It was just another Sunday dinner at the diner. Henry lifted his mug of hot chocolate to his mouth and sipped. It was just perfect as always. Granny had been teaching Ruby about thickening up the mixture with malt and something else Henry couldn't quite name. He could also taste the added nutmeg cinnamon and coriander? He swallowed thickly and savored the flavors. The back of his throat started to tickle a bit. There was pepper in it too!<p>

"Hey Ruby," he began. She turned around to great him as she continued to look through the day's receipts. "Did you put something new in here?"

The young woman flipped back a lock of candy red tinted hair and stuck her head up with pride. "I sure did. It's actually several somethings. Can you guess what it is?"

"It's pepper," Henry said confidently.

Ruby playfully narrowed her eyes at him and asked, "What kind?"

"The good kind," Henry answered with a question.

Ruby hunched down and leaned across the bar. She had a book in her hands. Henry looked down and could see it was a cook book full of large glossy pictures of colorful and spicy food. The title of the book was in French but the background of the banner was a lush wetland. He learned in school not to call them swamps anymore. Ruby reached underneath the counter again and took out a cooking bag of whole peppercorns. "I was reading this cookbook and I saw that the author and I had a lot in common. She's my age and she runs her own restaurant too. She actually studied to be a chef. I wrote to her and told her how much I loved her recipes and that I was running a family restaurant and learning about foods. She gave me some great business tips and one a spice bag that she made herself. I've been trying it on different things. I tried the red and black peppers in the hot chocolate mix and topped it with white and pink peppers."

Henry looked at the top of his treat. There sparkling at him were light pink and white flecks on top of his now homemade whipped cream. He absolutely loved the new Granny's Diner. "Hey Ruby," he asked. "Why haven't you changed the sign yet?"

"Well little man, it's still Granny's diner. Besides if I change the sign it will be," she whispered the next word like it was a curse, "official." She walked out from behind the bar to clear a few tables and collect checks and dishes. She balanced the items precariously in her left hand, which was a feat to see especially since she was wearing a pair of black platform stilettos with a tell-tale red sole, her right hand in the air waving to Granny who was outside. The older woman had come to terms that she wanted time to enjoy life and her family. Running two businesses simultaneously didn't allow time for that, so unofficially she let Ruby run the diner while she took over the bed and breakfast. The two women had recently resolved some of their differences. Ironically enough, working across the street from each other had made them closer together than working side by side ever did.

Henry smiled into his cup. Ruby and Granny working separately reminded him of how he works with Emma on their secret project. That was when he suddenly remembered why he was at the diner in the first place. Next to his book bag he had a box with a gift in it for Ruby. He had seen handmade baskets online and thought that a particular one dyed a deep red would suit her. The geometric design woven into it caught his eye and he immediately knew that it was something he should get for his friend.

Ruby finished clearing the dishes and adding up the receipts in the register. She put two coffees on a tray and along with containers of cream and sugar, brought it to a table in a back corner of the diner. The two women who had been sitting there for a while with now had papers spread out between them and were speaking in hushed tones. The slightly older woman would occasionally look up over to the bar where Henry was sitting. And every time the child looked at her, she responded with a stony-faced smile.

Ruby greeted them with her usual friendly demeanor. "Here's your coffee Mayor and…"

"I am so sorry for my rudeness," the woman said. "I'm Bridgette O'Connell. She had a slight accent, whether English or Irish, Ruby wasn't really sure. In the awkward moment before Bridgette introduced herself, Ruby noticed that the Mayor was amused with her discomfort. It didn't help that Bridgette took her time with the introduction, and before she snuck a quick look at the Mayor who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Ruby caught the entire exchange even though it lasted but a millisecond. The handshake it initiated a static charge. A thin and web-like indigo light danced in between their hands like lightning. As it moved it cracked and popped loudly. Ruby pulled her hand back but Bridgette was left shaking the pain out of her slender hand and looked at the waitress with wide green eyes.

"I am so so sorry," Ruby said.

"No no no." Bridgette said while interrupting Ruby. "It's alright. I've been doing that all day."

"Let me get you some complementary coffee."

"That's alright. I've been drinking coffee all day and I'm caffeine sensitive. My day is just about over anyway. I think it's just nervousness. I'm still a bit new," Bridgette claimed.

"Yes, Bridgette is my new intern," Regina chimed. "We've been working on some projects to improve the quality of life in Storybrooke."

"Oh," Ruby said trying to sound like she still had an interest in the conversation. She had never been good with politics. It always went straight over her head. There was another awkward pause that lasted almost a minute before Ruby remembered Henry. "I'm going to check in on Henry. Let me know if you need anything else, ok?"

She turned to walk away and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Something didn't smell right and her nostrils were yelling at her. There was no relief when that happened.

Henry had overheard the entire exchange but pretended to ignore it. He didn't want to interrupt. When Ruby came back to the counter she was far less joyful than before. He lifted up the gift box and placed it on the counter facing her. "I got this for you. Hope you like it."

Ruby raised a brow. "What on earth?" She opened it carefully as if she were waiting for it to explode. When it did not, she reached inside and came in contact with what felt like a woven basket. She took it out the handles and admired it.

Henry smiled. "It really suits you."

"Thanks Hen," she reached over to ruffle his head and he smiled at her with his ears tinting a bit pinker.

The Mayor watched her new assistant look at the exchange between her son and Ruby. "What's wrong Bridgette?"

"Maybe Henry should be over here with us, Regina."

"Why, Ruby wouldn't let anything happen to him? My son isn't going anywhere right now." Regina put her coffee down and changed the topic. "So you're Bridgette now? What's wrong with your other name?"

The younger woman leaned over. "And which name would you have me use?" Her hands gripped the table showing her anger.

Regina ignored the clip and asked a different question. "What did you pick up?"

Bridget closed her eyes and tried to call forth what she had just seen. She was reluctant to do so because it had scared even her. The diner girl was layered emotionally. The deeper layers were raw hunger and rage. There was something else as well. Bridgette held back her surprise when she realized what it was. Ruby and Bridgette had pulled apart from each other before more information could be passed. Even though she had her eyes closed she could tell that Regina was growing impatient without an answer. Though she had only a few moments to decide just what to tell Regina, she had chosen to lie. Full disclosures were never in her favor. "The woman is dangerous. You need to get Henry away from her."

Regina looked towards the bar. There didn't seem anything out of the ordinary. It was obvious there was serious doubt about what she had just learned, but Regina was never one to overlook the small things. Ruby and her Grandmother had always been enigmas. When implementing the curse, she had been very careful to not overlook anything. It was clear to Regina what Bridget had been talking about. The question about Ruby was the whereabouts of her "friend". If it was close, then Henry's safety was a concern. "Henry," she called. She watched him gulp down his drink and pick up his bag. He stopped abruptly when he had slung it over his shoulder. Something was different.

"What's wrong," she asked gently when he came over.

Henry hesitated and looked slightly confused. "N-nothing. My bag is a little heavier than I thought."

"Sounds like you have a lot of homework. Go home and get started on it. I don't want you up too late again," Regina scolded gently.

He leaned into Regina to give her the normal formal hug before he walked out with a wave to Ruby. When he left he had to remind himself to walk so he wouldn't look too suspicious. As soon as he turned the corner and was out of sight, he trotted to a bench and took out the old familiar book. The leather bound large cover still read "Once Upon a Time" but the difference was obvious when he had it on his lap. It really was heavier. He then opened it, and even though the pages weren't numbered, he could see that new stories had been added while he was in the diner.

Henry quickly flipped through the sheets. Four new stories had been added to the book.

He shut the book closed and quickly returned it to his bag. His adoptive mother was right. He really did have a lot of homework to do.

Anita watched as the new girl pushed an unruly curl back in the cap and got right back to scooping. "You've been very quiet, Jen."

"Sorry," she said with an accent that Anita had come to enjoy. "I just feel so bad. No one here deserves food this watered down." As if on cue, the mashed potatoes slipped from the serving spoon and plopped down wetly on the separated lunch tray. Bits of slop had splashed everywhere, making both women snort. Their scrubs would have to be dry- cleaned again but the laugh was worth the extra cost.

Anita held back more giggles, which looked funny on a woman her age, and gave her new co-worker a look. "I thought you Brits liked your food bland and over-boiled."

Jen dropped her jaw in mock outrage. "Oh yea?" she challenged. "You Southerners eat deep-fried butter." Both women laughed even harder at that. Anita took a pitcher from the counter and poured sugary juice in the plastic cups on the two trays that Jen had filled with "food."

"Nothing beats mystery meat, liquid carbs, and red sugar water", Anita said. The patients needed a much better diet. None of them were going to get better with shoddy nutrition like this. Anita didn't have a degree and didn't need one to know that. She had been working at this hospital for over a decade and had gotten used to sneaking in homemade breads, stews, and the occasional po'boy sandwich. Some of the more disturbed patients had responded right away to her food. They were happy and alert. It was like they had been jolted awake from a long slumber. Anita wasn't that naive. The patients were being medicated twice over once through their prescribed regiment and again through the facility's nutrition. She didn't know why the patients were purposely overmedicated, but with no proof, an allegation like that would cost her this job. So once a week, both her ovens and her six-burner stove churned out homemade goodies.

While Jen accompanied Anita during their rounds, she had seen the elderly woman sneak extra food on the trays. The smells immediately gave away the food's southern cooked origins. Instead of telling on monstrous and terrifying woman who ran the mental facility, Jen offered to help. Ironically both women had very similar backgrounds when it came to cooking. Even though their work environment was depressing, Jen enjoyed the time spent with Anita especially since everything had recently fallen apart in her life. Jen had begun to think of Anita as a fairy godmother. Whatever she was, she insisted that the first Wednesday of each month was jambalaya night. Tomorrow was that Wednesday. Jen had been eating light all day so that she could freely stuff her face at dinner. The anticipation had put her in a good mood and she refused to let negativity get to her. She scooped up the both trays on to one arm and stuck her tongue out at Anita as she left. Anita waved her off and went back to cleaning up the left overs.

Jen hummed a gentle lullaby as she made her way down several dark grey concrete corridors. A little bit of color and some simple organic accessories would also do these patients a world of good she thought to herself. There's no way there wasn't that little bit of wiggle room in the budget. These patients were here to get treated, not to be imprisoned. Jen never understood the rehabilitation floor was underground and looked like a prison. She counted the double barred thick doors and found the right one.

"Lunch," she said softly hoping that the room's occupant was awake while pushing the door open. This particular patient was still easy to scare. She never got violent but she withdrew in on herself. Her name was Rose and Jen thought the name suited her. When the days were bright and the light shone through her window she would smile and try to communicate even though she stayed silent. One day Jen had accidently left a novel in the room. When she went back for it the next day, it was clear that Rose had not only read it but had finished it as well. Jen never forgot that Rose had a passion for books. From time to time she made the effort to leave books for Rose and to pick them up before her shift was over. Jen laid the tray of food on the small table in the corner. "I don't have any books for you now but I do have this." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the rolled up glossy print magazine. "Sorry, it's just a home and garden magazine this time. It's all I have. You have to admit it. That cover looks amazing." Rose took the magazine and smiled just a bit.

After Jen left, she looked at the fluorescent lights and sighed. The next patient was not nearly as easy to be around. He was unpredictable if he was on his best behavior if not he was downright violent. Then again, Jen thought that was why he was here. She began to make her towards the main hallway to get to the other side of the facility. When she rounded the corner she could hear the high pitched screams of a desperate woman. She froze. The screaming wasn't inside any of the rooms, it was coming from a nearby corridor. The pleas kept echoing through the length of the halls.

"Mother! Mother, please don't this. I swear I'm sorry. It won't happen again. MOTHER! MOTHER!"

Jen held on to the tray with both hands. She wanted to run but the screaming woman was getting closer to the intersection of the corridors. The young woman's screams were occasionally cut off by a grunt or angry voice yell for other people to get off of her. Jen could hear a slight scuffle. One man had been hit and grunted in pain another yelled a curse. The young woman tried to scream again but was cut off and began mumbling. Someone had put something in her mouth. After the commotion, Jen thought she heard a long sweeping motion across the floor. Her eyes widened. The woman was now being dragged. All of those pleas had fallen on deaf ears. As the group got closer to the intersection, Jen heard other voices talking.

Jenny held her breath and tried to look as professional as she could. The first of three people she saw was Doctor. Pierre Roux the facility's chief of psychiatry. As usual, he was impeccably dressed. Unlike the other resident staff, he was never seen in scrubs. Today he wore navy blue designer suit. As he walked his glossy leather shoes made no sound. Jen never could figure out why but he seemed to cast the world's longest shadow. It was as if something was always following him. Jen always found herself weary of him mainly because Anita could not stand him. On the surface their animosity was hilarious, but there was more there and that part was not funny.

Walking in step with him were two women. The first woman Jen recognized because she was the director of the facility. Her thick but short frame was used to her benefit. When she wanted to bully her way into getting what she wanted her voice would grow and that shorter frame seemed all encompassing. Jen had recently learned that the director's name was Penelope, but no one ever called her that. Anita told her that along with a story of a love gone badly, the director's blatant passive-aggressive attitude had made it difficult for people to feel any empathy to her. As Penelope walked by she looked at Jen and gave her a big grin. When Jen had first started, she did once tell Penelope that she had admired her hair when they first met. Penelope had short fairly close cropped hair that was so grey it was almost white, but it also had lilac tints to it. Since then Penelope had been openly nice to Jen. Anita warned Jen that Penelope could change at any minute.

The other woman Jen did not recognize at all but was left to assume she was "Mother". Her black thick curly hair was half hidden under a fur hat, but her Chanel suit spoke of money and prestige.

Following closely behind them were Penelope's favorite two orderlies. Frank and John had classic opposite looks. Frank was tall and lanky whereas John was short and stocky-or was it the other way around? Jen couldn't remember and neither could anyone else. They were literally dragging the young woman who had been put in a straitjacket. Jen knew something was completely off because putting a patient in that position was no longer legal, at least here in the US.

The girl was no longer crying out for the woman who was ignoring her. She just hung her head in defeat. That's when Jen's mouth dropped. The girl's hair was incredible! It was so long that part of it had been used to bind her hands behind her back. It also wrapped around her torso and was in her mouth as a gag. The locks held so much mass that they could be heard sliding against the linoleum floor. Without the girl screaming her mother finally acknowledged her and saw the hair on the floor. The glare she gave the two orderlies stopped everything. Frank (or was it John?) immediately began picking it up and everything went back to normal.

Jen tried to move on with the last lunch tray but what had just happened was hard to forget. It took almost ten minutes of walking through longer and darker corridors before she came to the more secure and less populated part of the facility. In the furthest corner, which was also the darkest, there was a lone rusted iron door. The age of the metal was obvious due to the cracked and peeling paint, but there was only a single lock that took an old fashioned key. Jen looked at it oddly. What the hell was going on? This really wasn't standard procedure. Near the bottom of the door was a slot for food.

Jen knocked first, "Hello, I have your food. Are you hungry?"

After a pause an old scratchy male voice spoke, "I'm not," he paused and without finishing his thought. "What's your name, girl?"

"Um Jennifer."

Jen could hear bones creaking and his voice was much closer this time. "I'll take the food, girl. What's your last name?"

She bent down to slide the tray through the slot, "Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"You sound like someone I used to know." He glanced down at the hands that brought him his tray and launched to grab at them through the panel. He had spent years washing, folding, cleaning, cooking and polishing steel with them not to remember.

She screeched and tried to pull away. He held on tighter.

"Your last name? It's Thomas isn't it?"

Jen was already too scared to think that it could have been a good guess. "How-How did you-LET GO OF ME!"

"Gwen?" He sure of it now. "Guinevere!" This time he took her wrist and he mumbled something.

Jen's hand grew warm, too warm and she screamed. Her head felt light and she dropped to her knees. Despite all of that she kept trying to get away. Further down the hall, near the utility closet, the orderly that had been in there came running towards them. She remembered his good nature when he had made her laugh in the break room. "Gene? Help me," her voice broke. She didn't feel very well at all now. The light-headedness now started to consume her. She was dizzy and her hand felt like it was on fire. How did this old man get so strong?

"Jen, hold still," Gene told her. He tried to yank her away but she was trapped. He saw her eyes roll back in her head. The last thing she remembered was the flash of his cell phone, "I need help fast. Is Sheriff Swann there? She needs to come quick!"

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


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